Hyrum Grant, my brother, had yellow jaundice which turned to black jaundice. He became as black as my coat. He weighed slightly more than seventy pounds, and was in a most terrible condition. A doctor Van Cott, as I remember it, was waiting on him, and finally announced that my brother was dead. He said, “His pulse has not been beating now for some four or five minutes. He is gone.”

Hyrum’s son and son-in-law laid their hands upon his head and prayed to God that his spirit might return, that he might live to fulfill a promise made to him that he should live to preside over the Davis stake of Zion. When they got through praying, my brother opened his eyes, and said, “What is the matter with you folks? You look scared half to death.” He got well and did preside over the Davis stake of Zion.